“They’re on the run? Impossible. Not with the numbers they had.”
“They don’t look whipped, either. Just worn down and disappointed. See for yourself.”
Nassim sat in the shade of a wall built by Imperial legionnaires a thousand years earlier. Young Az and some regular companions crossed what passed for a village square. On the far side, away from the water pool so their wastes would not make the liquid any nastier than it was, a mixed flock of sheep and goats bleated incessantly in makeshift pens. A brace of wagons and three animal-hide tents stood close by. The tents housed several Ansa, one of whom was the elderly and vain sub-chief, Ginter.
The Mountain hoisted himself to his feet. His years did not bother him so much at al-Pinea. Er-Selim thought that might be because of the minerals in the water. He soaked regularly.
Alizarin was thrilled to see Azim but restrained his joy. The boy was grimly unhappy. His first independent assignment had not gone well.
Someone brought cool water. Others helped with the animals, who wanted water more than did their riders. Their refreshment took place away from the spring and pool.
Nassim said, “You’re exhausted. You have a reason for riding hard?”
Young Az joined the Mountain in his patch of shade. “Not really. No one is chasing us. We were working off our anger.”
“I see.” The Mountain awaited illumination.
“My uncle waited too long before sending us in. Gherig used the time to make repairs.”
“They couldn’t have had that many men left.”
“New crusaders arrive every day, Uncle. They’re coming by sea from Firaldia and kingdoms farther west. The ones at Gherig were Brotherhood of War. My foragers ran into them on the plain below Megaeda. The results were not pleasant for the Believers.”
“How many?”
“Fewer than a hundred, but all veterans of the Calziran Crusade. They compelled us to leave off harassing Gherig.”
Nassim observed, “I’m disappointed for you but I don’t know what else to say.”
“I didn’t come for comfort, Uncle.” The boy used the honorific for the second time. Nassim strained not to puff up with pride. “I’m here to pick your brain.”
“Flattering but unrealistic. My few successes came a long time ago.”
Young Az shrugged. “I’m afraid, Uncle. Those fighters hammered us. They didn’t fall into our traps. They were workmanlike about the whole business.” He flashed a quirk of a smile. “I’m afraid because the Commander of the Righteous is supposed to be more disciplined than any Arnhander we’ve seen before. And he will bring sixty thousand fighters.”
The Mountain answered with a smile. “Be confident. Be sure God has surprises in store.” But he had reservations himself.
What did Captain Tage owe the Sha-lug? Did he even recall that he was a warrior of the God Who Is God? The man had become so much more than what he had been sent out to be.
Young Az said, “Faithful who had been to the coast told us the forerunners of the overland invasion have reached the Antal Land Bridges.”
Nassim had no trouble understanding the boy’s despair. Indala had done what he could by unifying the kaifates-too late to do any good. The unification process was incomplete and might never be completed, so stubborn were Dreanger and the Sha-lug.
“Trust in God,” Nassim said, afraid he did not sound confident himself.
In a voice that carried no farther than the Mountain, Azer said, “I do. But will He trust in me?”
“I won’t speak to that. I don’t want to make anyone unhappy.”
The boy got the message. Too many Believers lacked any sense of humor whatsoever.
The Mountain was not sure a man ought to worship a God who would not laugh.
Never had Nassim seen or heard anything to suggest that his God had the least idea what laughter might be.
Young Az said, “Now you know my travails. Tell me yours.”
“Mine? Ah! Of course. If I had been successful I wouldn’t be here.”
The boy listened while he explained, then said, “You need to besiege him.”
“Yes?”
“There is only one of him. He has no helpers. And he hasn’t gained control of the ghosts and demons he came to recruit. Right?”
“That’s true.”
“Then draw a cordon around Andesqueluz, as close as you can, and tighten it whenever you can. Badger him with nuisance attacks. Ambush him when he comes out to steal food. The terrain will force him to follow certain paths, right? Cover those with your firepowder weapons. Rig booby traps that make him waste power. Drain his blood one cut at a time.”
“I’ll think about that.” Azim had described Nassim’s current strategy exactly, except for committing the falcons.
“Excellent. So, before we settle down to dine on peacock tongues while virgins tempt us with lascivious dances, what can I do for you when I get to Shamramdi? Is there anything I can have my uncle send you?”
“No. He has been generous beyond my expectations and hopes.”
“There’s nothing you want?”
“Of course there is. Firepowder. I’ll always want firepowder. But I can’t demand something that can’t be had.”
“I see. And I am sorry, Uncle. You’re right. There is none to be had anymore. The best manufacturers are outside the Realm of Peace. They no longer sell to Believers.”
True. Nassim’s former suppliers refused to receive his emissaries. They did not want their names remembered to the new crusaders.
Alizarin left his slice of shade. He looked up into the mountains, toward the Mountain, Asher. Was there some divine purpose to his having come to be known as the Mountain? Had Asher been scribbled on his forehead as he left the womb?
30. The Connec: Antieux: The Widow Returned
Bernardin Amberchelle strained to control his excitement when Kedle Richeut and the Vindicated returned. This was Antieux’s greatest day. The Massacre had been requited. The man responsible was in chains, headed for the cathedral where so many innocents had burned to death.
People howled and threw filth. Neither Bronte Doneto nor Anne of Menand noticed but they were used least ill by those they had persecuted most vigorously, the Seekers After Light. Their most vicious assailants were Brothen Episcopals intent on demonstrating a civic loyalty overshadowing any allegiance to a fallen Patriarch. And their families had suffered in the Massacre, too.
The Vindicated began to evaporate. No discipline could hold them together now. Fewer than two score remained by the time the Widow reached the citadel.
Bernardin met her at the gate. He could not stifle his grin. Still, he did note that Kedle was neither comfortable nor happy herself. Having seen the key prisoners installed in cages where the populace could torment them, he took the Widow inside. He had her ranking bachelor followers given quarters, too, but separated her from everyone but a nervous pair of boys she would not put aside.
“As you will. Come.” He led her to the kitchen, to the little room where he, Socia, and the Perfect had spent so many productive hours. She would want a decent meal. Then she would want a long soak in a hot tub, where she could fall asleep if she liked. She would want to spend a week burrowed into a feather bed.
She would want to see her children, too, but that could not be managed. Raulet and Chardén had gone to Khaurene with their grandparents.
* * *
Kedle tried to eat like a wolf but her shrunken stomach would not accommodate her. Bernardin tried several conversational sallies. She did not respond. He told her, “You’re no longer a free agent, woman. You’re back in the real world. It has no room for routiers. Here you are a subject of the Countess of Antieux. Here you answer questions when they’re asked.”
Kedle was ready to explode instantly.